Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

  “My sexy, sexy Nora,” he crooned, allowing himself to fall into the pleasure trap that would give him a few precious moments of escape.

  * * *

  Sam limped out of the bedroom, the empty couch confirming his suspicions. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg, he shuffled over to the kitchen, waving his pin light around in a brief sweep. He moved to the door of the cellar, or what was left of it anyway. The damage following the raid hadn't been fixed, mainly because the lock had been shot to smithereens, and Ryan didn't have a replacement. Of course, he wasn't expecting to have a nephew ravaging his food supply, either. He opened the rickety door and side-stepped down the steep stairwell as quietly as he could so as not to betray his presence.

  Sure enough, once he got to the bottom of the stairs, he eyed a soft glow coming from the back between two rows of shelves. Ah ha, I've caught you red-handed now! Moving through the gloom like a slinking cat, he sprung up to where the light was coming from. He looked down to see his son sitting Indian-style on the floor, scarfing down reconstituted eggs he had apparently cooked on a camp stove in front of him.

  Filled with sudden rage, he shouted, “Stand up, Jimmy.”

  Looking non-plussed, Jimmy stood up, his mouth still full of food. After a brief pause, he said, “You've caught me, big deal. Why won't you have some breakfast with me? Admit it, Dad. You're starving, too. Let's both eat, and when Mom and Eliza get up, we'll feed them what they want.”

  Sam pulled Jimmy by the arm away from the camper stove and the pile of food next to it. His voice laced with raw anger, he said, “What you're doing is stealing. You're going around like a thief in the night, eating your fill while the rest of us go hungry. You promised me that you'd not do this again after Nora caught you last time, didn't you? And now you've broken that promise.”

  Jimmy jerked himself free, letting out a snort of annoyance. “This is all Nora's doing, and you know it, Dad. She had no right to come in here and tell us we have to starve, even though we have a zillion tons of food down here. This rationing thing is total bullshit, and I'm not going to put up with it anymore.”

  “This is not bullshit, Jimmy. That food is all we have, and it's for six people. Who only knows when we'll be able to get more, or if we'll be able to leave here any time soon. If we don't ration our food now, we're liable to starve later. That's why I consider Nora a real godsend now, since my brother just doesn't have the discipline to force us to ration his food supply.”

  “I'm starving now,” Jimmy wailed. “I'm not even getting half the food I need to live. I've yet to sleep a single minute tonight since I was so hungry. And I'll be dammed if I let that bitch tell me how much I can eat.”

  Sam tensed with a renewed surge of anger, recalling his brother berating him for not being “disciplined” enough with his son. “Jimmy, I'm not going to tell you again, we don't use words like that in this family. You'd better keep that mouth clean, or you'll be eating a bar of soap for your daily ration.”

  Jimmy's eyes widened, his nostrils flaring. Leaning over a bit, he said, “Okay, I'll use cleaner language. That woman, has come in here out of nowhere and has taken control of the food. Our food. That woman is taking away my right to eat.”

  Sam's hands flew up and down in pure rage. “You have no right to any of this food! We had no right to come to my brother's house in the first place! Don't you understand that? If it wasn't for Ryan, and Nora too, we'd all be dead. Think about that, son.”

  Jimmy let out a huff of pure annoyance. “I'm hungry, Dad, and I'm going to eat, and there's not a goddammed thing you can do about it.”

  Without thinking, Sam cocked his right arm back, raising his outstretched palm. He whipped his hand around with violent force, catching Jimmy squarely in the cheek. Jimmy's head snapped to the side, his long hair flopping backward. Visibly stunned, Jimmy checked his mouth with his hand to see if he was bleeding, discovering blood on his fingers. He looked at his father with a deadpan stare for a few moments, the silence between them growing uncomfortably long.

  Eventually, he said, “You're resorting to hitting family members now, huh? How about we do this, you hit me, I hit you back. This time, you get a free ride. Next time, you don't.” He stuck a finger to where he'd been sitting before. “You may have decided to let Nora control your life. Fine, let her control your life. But I'm not, and she can't stop me.” He stomped away, promptly sitting down exactly where he was before.

  An overwhelming sense of failure as a father washed over Sam, pulling him down even worse than the graphic memories of all those men he had shot and killed. He backed up against the nearby wall and slid down, breaking down into sobs as he did so.

  He cried for a long time.

  * * *

  Nora glanced over at Ryan while she scarfed down the last of her rice. “I don't think we have any choice in the matter, Ryan. We move the food over here where it can be kept out of reach of your brother's family, or we just forget the whole thing and eat ourselves silly. Your brother has lost complete control of his son and his wife is a candidate for the rubber room. We just can't afford to have them sitting on top of our food supply.”

  Ryan held his still-growling stomach, wishing that he could have more to eat. Despite the necessity of the situation, living on 1250 calories a day was borderline torture. When she'd found about Jimmy's latest foray in the cellar, Nora lowered the boom by cutting the daily ration by another 250 calories, insisting they had no choice but to do so. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Jimmy, with his screaming metabolism. The tension between the two of them was nearing a breaking point, and with the way Nora was treating him lately, Jimmy had zero incentive to work with her on a voluntary basis.

  “Well,” he began, pushing his plate aside as he eased back in the dinette seat. “We could kick them out of the house and have them live here. It'd be a dammed sight easier than moving all the food over here. Besides, where would we keep it? We need this space to work, not to store food. And I can guarantee it, Jimmy would find a way to sneak in here, too. He'd cut a hole in the damn wall if it came down to it. There's no stopping that boy.”

  Nora looked at him with tightly-pressed lips. “Your idea of moving them out here has merit. It certainly deserves further consideration. How about we bring it up for discussion at the family meeting tomorrow night?”

  Ryan shrugged his shoulders. It was almost to the point where he didn't care about the rationing any more. It was hell on everybody, including Nora herself. If only they could go back to the days of Irene spending those endless hours in the kitchen, cooking up a parade of those wondrous, scrumptious meals, day in and day out. It was the one thing that made life bearable in this terrible, dark winter.

  Letting out a deep sigh, he said, “Yes, let's discuss it at tomorrow's meeting. Right now, I'm going to try and find Javaboy on the radio.”

  “Still pursuing that fool's errand, huh? While you do that, I think I'll do something useful, like keeping watch over the food supply.”

  Ryan waved a hand dismissively at her as he made his way out of the motorhome, not wishing to keep arguing with her. “Whatever, Nora. It's not like I have anything better to do.”

  Once Nora had left the shop, he stuffed a few more logs into the wood burner, which was running good and hot. The temperature outside was running about thirty-five below, and even with the burner going full-blast, they were doing well to keep the inside of the shop and the motorhome at fifty degrees. It was getting to the point when keeping the shop and the motorhome inside it warm enough not worth the trouble, especially if the thermometer kept going down. While his idea of moving the family out here was tempting, and certainly would make Nora happy, he knew that the more realistic solution would to have everyone live in the house again, and not even bother with heating the shop any longer.

  Ryan shook his head as he waited for the radio to warm up. That sure would be a barrel of monkeys, all six of us in that house. May the gods have mercy on me.

  Making sure
the channel was set on 31, he adjusted the squelch knob until he got clean air. Taking in a deep breath, he brought up the mouth piece and depressed the handle. “Javaboy, Javaboy. You got your ears on? This is C-Man, C-Man from the UP.”

  Silence. Try and try again. “This is C-Man from the UP, looking for Javaboy. Javaboy, you out there?”

  When he let go of the handle, he heard a burst of static and a hauntingly familiar voice. “C-Man, is that really you? This is Javaboy, in Costa Rica. Come in, C-Man. Over.”

  Ryan was so stunned, it took a moment to respond. He squeezed the handle and finally said, “This is C-Man alright, from the frozen depths of the North Woods. How are you, Javaboy? Over.”

  The voice from the ether, the result of radio waves skipping back and forth against the ground and upper atmosphere for three thousand miles, came through with almost perfect clarity. “Man, it's really you. I've been thinking of you, man. How are you getting on up there? Over.”

  His body swelling with pure joy, Ryan smiled and said, “It's a bit cold, but I've got the ol' wood burner going at full blast, and we've just been hunkering down. How are things in Costa Rica? Over.”

  “Yah man, we're doing great down here. Just a few food riots over in San Jose, but not like Panama. They've kept the power on for the most part, and gasoline can be had if you've got cash or metal. I say we're doing pretty good down here, considering. Over.”

  Desperate for information, he asked, “Are you still able to grow food? Over.”

  “Yah man, I'm growing every cool-weather vegetable I can get my hands on. It's like springtime in England these days, cool, cloudy and wet. But yes, we're growin' and eatin'. Over.”

  A chill ran down Ryan's spine. Maybe, just maybe it's possible. Maybe. “That's very good to know.” He paused for a moment, working up his courage. You never knew about these long-distance calls – the atmospheric conditions, called “skip,” might allow their conversation to last hours, or it could be two minutes. He needed to get this out there now, while he had the chance. “Henry, I've got something I want to ask you. Over.”

  “I'm all ears, man. What do you need to ask me, C-Man? Over.”

  Taking in a deep breath, Ryan squeezed the handle and began speaking.

  Chapter 22

  For the first time since Yellowstone blew a hole in the world, Sam had hope. Real hope, not the subtle, fleeting kind like a mirage in the desert, but real, tangible hope that he could touch and feel and hold in his hands. And yet his brother's idea was about as crazy as he could imagine.

  Costa Rica. Sam tumbled those words over and over in his mind. The new Promised Land, in Ryan's opinion, at least.

  Three nights before, Ryan had made contact on the ham radio with his old friend who had a large ranch down there and, after two hours-long chats, a plan was hatched. Henry Adams volunteered to officially sponsor the Durant family if they were able to transport their motorhome there and use it to live in on his land. The Costa Rican government, like many in the tropics and the Southern Hemisphere, were allowing people from the north to go there only if they had a sponsor willing to take them in, in addition to paying hefty “immigration fees.”

  As for getting them there, Henry had a solution for that as well, which was securing passage for the four of them plus the motorhome on a freighter due to leave Mobile Bay right around Christmas, three weeks hence. The fare, as well as the immigration charges, would be paid for in gold coin, which Ryan was graciously willing to supply. That meant all they really had to worry about was getting the motorhome and the four of them from the northern tip of Michigan down to Mobile, Alabama. In one piece.

  It wasn't going to be easy, and there was a very real, and likely a rather large chance, that they'd not be able to make it. However, the idea of his family moving to Costa Rica, not merely to seek refuge from the cold and hunger, but for the opportunity to start over again, to actually have a meaningful life in the years and decades to come, made the high-stakes gamble worthwhile. It would give his children the chance to grow up and make their own way in the world, just as he and Irene had been able to do. Why Ryan and Nora wanted to remain behind, he really couldn't figure that out, except them making it through the long winter would certainly be feasible on the amount of supplies his brother had on hand.

  Everyone knew that staying here just wasn't working out. Day by day, his family was being torn apart by Eliza's endless wheezing, Irene's constant depression, and Jimmy rebelling against him and Nora. It was getting to the point where Sam sometimes had to step outside and stand in the minus forty-five degree cold just to have a break from it, despite the risk of frostbite.

  Sam looked at his brother as they sat across from each other at the dinette table in the motorhome, glad to be alone with him for once. Holding out his hands in front of him, he said, “I've gotta hand it to you, doing all that work to contact your friend on that radio and then having the balls to ask him if he'd take us in.”

  Ryan laughed. “That's what friends are for. Besides, he wants to do his part to help however he can. He needs all the hands he can get on that ranch of his, and with you guys living in the motorhome, you'd not be impinging on him and his wife at all, really.”

  “Basically, it's a work-for-food deal, then?”

  “You could put it that way. But I can see it in your face, that you feel good about this. I need your total commitment on this, as your family is going to need your strength and leadership to get them down there. If you want to have any hope of pulling this off, you'll need to repair your relationship with your son.”

  Sam let out a sigh. “That'll be far easier if you can convince Nora to lift the rationing. To him, it's all about food, and he sees anyone getting in the way of it as an enemy. Even me.”

  Ryan smiled. “Yes, I was planning on working with Nora on that. If you guys are really going to be taking off in two weeks, I think she can relax a little, especially in regards to Jimmy.”

  “I appreciate that, Ryan. I don't think any of us had any idea how hard this would be for him.”

  “Or for your wife.”

  “Yes, if she's allowed to cook what she wants again, plus the hope of being able to leave, there might be a chance of getting her boat back on keel. She's actually doing a little bit better now; she just prefers to stay in the bedroom most of the time. She says it conserves energy and keeps her from getting too hungry.”

  Ryan held a hand over his stomach. “Just talking about your wife's cooking is making my stomach growl. Come to think of it, I'll just put my foot down with Nora and tell her we're removing all restrictions on food. There's a lot to be done between now and your departure, and all of you will need energy for the journey to Mobile, as it will be a long and perilous one.”

  Sam let out a long sigh. “I can't thank you enough for the payment of the fare, Ryan. One hundred gold coins for that, plus the gold that we'll need for entry into Costa Rica. You have my word I'll make it up to you someday.”

  Ryan shook his head. “No, the only thing I wish is for you and your family to make it to Costa Rica and have the opportunity to start over. Here, there's nothing for your family. Down there, you'll not only be able to have a life, but a fairly comfortable one at that.”

  Sam pointed to the front of the motorhome, frowning. “I've just thought of something.”

  “What's that?”

  “How in the hell am I going to be able to drive this thing in the snow, unless you think the roads will be plowed?”

  Ryan paused before answering. “A good point. We might have to think about attaching a plow to this thing.”

  Sam drew back, his mouth agape. “A plow? On a motorhome?”

  Ryan shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, why not? I've got a full welding ensemble here, plus the plow I can salvage off the truck the raiders were using. We can just stick that thing on there, rig up a control in the cab, and slap some chains around the back tires. You'll be able to drive through anything.”

  Sam was impressed. “How a
bout gas? How will we be able to get gas along the way?”

  “You'll carry as much as you can to begin with. And I'm sure there will be places where gasoline can be obtained at a cost. I'll make sure you're loaded with plenty of paper cash, silver and extra gold, plus a few cases of MREs. I doubt it'll be that much of a problem, since people will have gas out there to trade for what they need most, such as food.”

  “Well, that's awfully generous of you.”

  “No, you're the one that's being generous, having the willingness to take your family away from here in the face of extreme risk and uncertainty. With just the two of us here, it'll be so much –”

  Sam held up his hand to interrupt. “You don't have to remind me. Of course, we'll go. There's no other option, really.”

  Just then, Nora bounded up the steps into the interior of the motorhome, wearing a smile on her face for once as she tossed her inventory notebook onto the dinette table. Looking at Sam, she said, “I hope you're not going to change your mind about leaving.”

  Sam shook his head, puzzled. “No, I was just confirming that with Ryan, how much I really want to do this.”

  “Good, because I just gave your wife permission to cook as much food as she wants.”

  Sam opened his mouth in genuine surprise. “That's sure going lift a lot of spirits around here.”

  She laughed and said, “It already has. I've got Jimmy to agree not to raid the cellar with his mother having unlimited access, and Irene's agreed to log everything she takes out of there. It's just for two weeks – I think we can handle it.”

  Sam experienced a delicious surge of relief washing through his body. That was going to make life much, much easier than it had been. The hunger, the endless hunger... Even Ryan had been affected by it, that stoic exterior cracking a bit more each day. Whatever dangers they faced on the journey to Mobile and on to Costa Rica, he had the comfort of knowing that the next two weeks were going to be pretty good. Something they all needed desperately.